


The Shorter Madness

by dedougal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas confront each other during 7x17.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shorter Madness

Dean was shaking in the stairwell. Yeah. That was pretty much the only way to describe it. Sam had been wheeled back to his room and Dean had watched Castiel’s sad eyes as he went, the words, “You’re not real” echoing hollowly behind him.

Dean still wasn’t sure if Cas was real. He needed to pinch himself. Cut his arm with a silver blade. He needed a drink. Instead, here he was, leaning against the cold concrete of the empty, bare stairwell, shivering in the chill and at the sight of his lost brother. How could Sam ever come back from this?

There were no footsteps, no warning slam of a door. But Cas was there in front of him, smelling of ozone and power. It was that which finally convinced Dean this wasn’t some dream.

“What…” Dean had to cough to ease the lump in his throat. “What can you do?”

Castiel sat on the steps, ridiculous ruined trench coat splayed on the stairs beside him. He didn’t speak. He watched Dean, seeing through him again. It was as if he’d never stopped being Castiel, Angel of the Lord. Like stepping back before Godstiel, before Crowley and Balthazar and Raphael and Lisa and Soulless Sam. Before Lucifer. Cas said nothing.

Dean would never have guessed if that he would wish to be newly out of hell again. He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Guess I’m going to… say goodbye to Sam.”

“Dean. Wait.” Castiel pushed himself to his feet, invading Dean’s personal space again. “I can still help.”

“Yeah.” Anger. The urge to punch Cas which would roughly have the same effect as punching a brick wall or the concrete beside him rose up. Dean didn’t even attempt to stop the emotion from loading his voice with pain. “You got any ideas? Or are you just as useless as you were against Eve?” Dean didn’t give Castiel the chance to reply. “We’ve been on the run from monsters we can’t even kill and you show up and we’re back to a whole fuckton of nothing again and it’s not going to end and it’s not going to stop and there’s nothing I can do to stop Lucifer driving my brother so crazy his fucking body is going to shut down.” Just saying the words drove a spike a pain through Dean’s guts. He couldn’t fight anymore. He slumped against Cas, wrapped his hands in his lapels and pulled. “You were my last hope.”

Castiel was immovable as ever, straight backed and solid and so inhuman just watched him. Then he moved so damn fast. Dean felt the breath rush out of him as he was pushed back against the concrete, Cas’ hand rising up to stop his head from smacking against the wall. Then Castiel was there, lips on his, demanding like never before. Dean had to tease Castiel into breaking down, into kissing and fucking and this was new. Here was Castiel asking, demanding, taking the lead.

Maybe Daphne had taught him a thing or two.

“I did not have relations with my wife. It was not right.” Castiel seemed to read his mind. “I know now why.” Then Castiel’s lips were on his again and Dean parted his lips and let Castiel’s tongue in. All the frustration and hurt and everything seemed focused on the battle of mouth against mouth. Dean sucked Cas’ bottom lip into his mouth and bit down. There was no blood, no split in the skin, but it felt good, like he might cause pain in return for all the pain he’d suffered.

The buck of Castiel’s hips against his thigh showed the Cas didn’t mind the pain. Dean pulled and tugged at the soft prissy pants Cas wore, so different from Jimmy’s cheap, misshapen suit, and finally he pulled out Cas’ cock. Castiel was not the pliant angel, desperate for affection and approval. Instead he demanded Dean’s attention with a hard, dry hand on his cock. They jerked together, too fast and too rough. But Dean needed the pain – needed to cause it. He slid his mouth down Cas’ neck, biting down hard. Cas let out a strangled groan but it wasn’t pain.

Dean could feel himself rushing towards pleasure he knew he didn’t deserve. With a groan of his own, that was perhaps nearer to a sob than anything else, he scratched his nails over the back of that damned coat, that hair shirt he’d carried in the back of whatever car he was using that week. He wasn’t going to hurt Castiel, wasn’t going to wound him. He could be rough and remorseless. That was all the fucking had ever meant to Castiel after all.

Cas tightened his hand, almost to the edge of pain, and Dean came over his hand, hollow victory on the part of Cas as his body tightened, released and nothing changed, nothing washed away in the usual white heat. Cas followed an instant after, a tampered down light flooding the grey space of the stairwell, making it a piece of heaven for an instant. The light faded too quick.

Dean slumped back, panting hard. He ached, outside and in, as he looked at Castiel who should be dishevelled and debauched and instead just looked normal. As he always did.

“We shouldn’t have done that.” Dean tucked himself away, pushing away from the wall and past Castiel and starting heavily up the steps that would lead him to Sam. He would try – he would be with Sam until it was all over. Castiel laid a hand on his arm and there was that gut-pulling sensation of angel transport.

They hadn’t gone far. They were in Sam’s room as he lay dully on the bed, eyes red raw with exhaustion.

Castiel let Dean go, his eyes moving between Sam and the air directly to the left of Dean’s face. “I know how to help him now, Dean.” 

Instead of the expected joy, it was foreboding that filled Dean.


End file.
